


Holding on together

by SandraMorningstar



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMorningstar/pseuds/SandraMorningstar
Summary: Peter managed to throw Doc Ock out of his head and regain control of his body but it's a pyrrhic victory. Now he's left to deal with the aftermath - being stuck with a business he doesn't know how to run, constant paranoia that Otto might highjack him again or that the take-over has permanently changed him as well as horribly vivid nightmares.Lately, he's taken to avoiding sleep altogether if possible, sometimes for days. While patrolling the city on one such sleepless night, he stumbles across Johnny who is dealing - or rather not dealing - with his own issues. His family is still god-knows-where in space and he both misses them terribly and feels abandoned by them.





	Holding on together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seechi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Seechi).



> So my friend Seechi is slowly but surely turning me into a Spideytorch shipper ...  
> She asked for a fic for her birthday and I immediately knew I wanted to write about these two loveable dorks again. Originally, I'd planned to go for porn but I took a wrong turn somewhere and landed at pain. Oh well...  
> She really liked it, though so all's well, I suppose. 
> 
> When giving me her review today she also informed me that apparently Johnny can sober up by flaming on which does make sense in a way but I wasn't aware of that when writing (Sorry. I am new to this fandom and it is still a learning curve for me, especially regarding what everyone can do). I hope it's not too glaring an inconsistency. I thought about changing it but to be honest it facilitates the plot so well I'm reluctant to do it. For now, I'll write on (because even though this was supposed to be a oneshot it turned into something much longer and more elaborate in my mind so it'll become a multi-chapter fic now) and decide later.
> 
> In any case, I hope you'll enjoy reading it. :)

It wasn’t a pleasant night to be out and about. It had started to rain in the afternoon and progressively gotten worse. Streets had been flooded and consequently closed off and whole subway lines brought to a standstill by the torrential rain. Even now, close to midnight, the sky showed no sign that things were about to let up soon. Angry gusts of wind hurled the rain against the windows of the skyscrapers like it was trying to break through. The streets were as deserted as they could get downtown.

Peter sat perched atop a building, his suit slowly getting soaked while he half-heartedly waited for something – anything – to happen. He really didn’t think anything would come up. Whoever committed crimes in this weather must be truly desperate but, hey, so was he.

Growing restless, he swung a few blocks, looking for a drier place or some trouble. At the highpoint of one of his swings, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Without thinking about it, he changed course, his muscles protesting the forced course-change at this break-neck speed. Peter relished the sensation.

When he’d found a good vantage point he looked in the direction where he thought he’d seen it, whatever it was, but nothing caught his eye. He was about to chalk it up to his sleep deprived brain playing a trick on him when a faint orange light flashed in the distance for a moment, right near the top of the Statue of Liberty. Peter knew there was no orange light up there.

The light flashed again, longer this time, flickering just a bit and Peter was hit by the realization that it must be Johnny who was sitting out there all by himself.

“What the heck are _you_ doing out in this weather?”, Peter wondered quietly.

He decided to find out.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, shouldn’t you be at some party this time of night?”, Peter asked as he landed next to Johnny who flinched a little, obviously just as surprised as himself that he wasn’t alone. “Or, you know, at least somewhere nice and dry?”

Johnny just shrugged. Steam rose off his body and Peter could feel the heat emanating from him.

“No witty comeback today?” Peter sat down next to Johnny, feeling the warmth slowly seep into him.

Johnny shrugged again but answered: “Don’ feel so witty today.” He ran a hand through his hair and pulled his feet close to his body, wrapping his arms around him. It didn’t take spider senses to know something was bothering him.

Peter always felt like his words deserted him in situations like these but he’d be damned if he just sat idly by while Johnny was suffering.

“Rough day?” It was the best he could come up with.

“Rough day, rough week, rough month an’ so on…” Johnny looked out over the water, his face turned away just enough so Peter couldn’t see it. “I should go home…”, he suddenly said and stood up. Only then, by the way stepped back and forth unsteadily, did Peter realize that Johnny was drunk. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d lunged forward and gripped Johnny’s arm, yanking him back from the edge. Johnny didn’t even try to resist, letting himself fall backwards and pulling Peter down with him. It was only when they lay there next to each other, rain falling on their faces, that Peter realised why he’d stopped Johnny. He’d been scared he wouldn’t flame on.

Peter wasn’t sure if it was technically possible for Johnny to be too drunk to flame on but he knew he never wanted to find out.

He had half expected Johnny to get angry and demand an explanation. At the very least, he expected some kind of reaction but nothing came. Johnny just lay next to him in silence. Now Peter was really worried. This just wasn’t like Johnny. He had his quiet, vulnerable moments and Peter had seen him in pain, both physical and mental, but he’d never seen him like this before. He pushed himself up and leaned over his friend. 

Johnny was crying.

“Damnit!”, Peter cursed. “Johnny, what’s wrong?”

“They just left me!”, Johnny yelled. He said more but the rest got drowned out by loud sobs.

“They will come back”, was all Peter could think to say and he made sure to put as much conviction into his words as he could. “Come on, we’ll get you somewhere dry and you sleep off the alcohol. That sound good?”

Johnny nodded and let Peter help him up. “’m sorry”, he said.

“It’s okay”, Peter assured him.

 

* * *

 

It wouldn’t have been right to leave Johnny alone in the state he was in, so Peter brought him back to his apartment. By the time they landed on the balcony, Johnny had calmed down a little. The sobs came in longer intervals now and were less severe.

Peter had carried Johnny piggyback-style. Now he steadied him as he got back on his own feet again and helped him inside.

“This isn’t my place”, Johnny realized as Peter sat him down on the couch.

“It’s mine”, Peter said. “It was closer.” It wasn’t but he knew that Johnny was too drunk to do the math right now and grateful for it. This wasn’t what was important right now. “We need to get you out of those clothes. You’ll catch your death like this.”

Johnny hummed but didn’t make any effort to move.

“You need my help?”, Peter asked.

“’m fine”, Johnny assured him. His head lolled to the side, semi-focused eyes looking at Peter.

“So you keep saying”, Peter replied with a huff. “Yet, somehow I don’t believe you. How much drinks did you even have?”

“Don’ know.”

“Hmm”, Peter acknowledged. He nudged him gently. “Come on, take off your clothes. I’ll find you something dry to wear.”

“Okay”, Johnny breathed and finally moved. It was sluggish and fumbling but not so much that Peter didn’t dare to leave him for a moment. He went to his bedroom and rummaged around in his closet until he had found a shirt, boxer shorts and a pair of sweatpants that he thought would fit Johnny. On his way back he also grabbed a towel from the bathroom.

 

Johnny stood unsteadily next to the couch, arms folded. His clothes in a wet heap at his feet. He looked lost and tired and crushingly sad.

“Holding up?”, Peter asked quietly.

“I won’t pass out if that’s what you mean”, Johnny said. He sounded more aware now, sobered up so to speak.

“For now, yes.” Peter laid the clothes on the couch. “You should dry yourself off before putting these on.”

“Um … could you maybe ...” Johnny’s breath hitched. “The whole room’s spinning and–”

“I get it”, Peter interrupted him. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not”, Johnny protested. “You– I shouldn’t–“

Peter saw him getting teary-eyed again and quickly interrupted: “Shh, it’s fine.” He laid a steadying hand on Johnny’s shoulder but Johnny shook him off. He staggered a few steps back before he found his balance.

“Don’ say that”, he said angrily. “Nothing is fine. Or alright. Or o-fucking-kay!” He was almost yelling by the end of it.

Peter hung his shoulders. “No, it’s not”, he breathed.

“Damn right it isn’t”, Johnny yelled. “Nothing is right anymore. Nothing makes sense!” He let out an angry scream and sank to his knees as if his little outburst had robbed him of the last of his energy.

Peter knelt down next to him and quietly started to towel him off. He wished he could say something to make things better but what was there to say? More than anything, Peter wished he could fix it somehow but what Johnny needed right now was his family and he couldn’t give them to him. He couldn’t bring them back. For the first time he felt bitter thinking about Reid, Sue and Ben. It had been easy enough telling himself that there must be a good reason why they hadn’t returned yet. But what reason could here possibly be to make Johnny suffer like this?

“For what it’s worth”, he said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how much you must miss them.”

“Everyone tells you it will get better”, Johnny said, his voice shaking. It sounded less like an answer and more like he was talking to himself. “As if you’ll just wake up one day and not miss them anymore. But if that’s how it works then I’m broken. For me, it just gets worse.”

“You’re not broken”, Peter assured him. “But what all these people saying things will get better leave out is that there is that long stretch in between where everything is awful and no one can say how long it takes to get through it.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience”, Johnny remarked.

“Well, what can I say. Perks of being a hero”, Peter joked, fighting hard to keep the strain out of his voice. For a second he’d been worried he’d said too much.

“Of course. Sorry. I– I didn’t think”, Johnny said quickly.

“No need for apologies”, Peter said as a yawn escaped him.  “You get a pass on account of having a real shitty day and being drunk and probably a whole number or other mitigation circumstances.”

“Thank you, your honour”, Johnny replied and there was the hint of a smile on his face.

“It’s a pleasure.” Peter yawned again. “But let’s continue this tomorrow. I’m tired and you could do with some sleep as well.”

“Flattering.” The smile was small but definitely there.

“You’re welcome.” Peter smirked. “Come, you can have the bed.” He got up and pulled Johnny to his feet as well.

“And you?”

Peter hadn’t even spared a thought where he would sleep because he didn’t really intend to. He knew he had to at some point but he could do with one last night without a nightmare. “I’ll take the couch”, he quickly said.

Johnny, halfway through putting on the fresh clothes, shot him an unconvinced look. “No offence but that thing looks uncomfortable.”

“It is”, Peter admitted. “But I can take it. And before you even think about offering to sleep on the couch instead: No. You will be uncomfortable enough tomorrow with the hangover you’re gonna have. No need to add backpain to it.”

“Don’t you have a kingsize?”, Johnny asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then why don’t we both take the bed? There’s place enough.” Johnny sounded almost begging. How could Peter deny him?

“Okay”, Peter said and nodded. Sleeping was out of the question, of course, – he wouldn’t risk another nightmare while Johnny was sleeping next to him –, but he could stay and watch over him at least.

That had been the plan.

However, Peter found that, once they had settled down, it was oh so easy to fall asleep next to Johnny. He’d changed into dry clothes as well before going to bed but had still been cold, even shivering a little. Lying next to Johnny, that didn’t last long, though. His heat seeped into Peter’s body, not only warming him up but relaxing his stress-tense muscles as well. And as he listened to Johnny’s calm, regular breathing, he slowly drifted off.

 

* * *

 

Peter jerked awake in the middle of the night, his heart beating fast and panicked but looking around the room everything seemed alright. Johnny was sleeping next to him, features relaxed and one hand lazily draped over Peter’s waist. But not even that peaceful image managed to stop the panic getting a hold of him.

Suddenly Peter felt himself slipping.

It was like he’d stepped off a cliff and was now falling. There was that sickening pull in the pit of his stomach that came with terminal velocity. His fight-or-flight-response kicked in, screaming at him to do something. He did or rather tried to, only to find that he couldn’t move and it wasn’t an outside force keeping him locked in place. The realization came with a dizzying wave of nausea.

A searing pain shot through his head. White static danced before his eyes. Peter screamed but without command of his body it went unheard. When the pain faded, he felt something else. A sense of glee and satisfaction that definitely wasn’t his own. They were Otto’s feelings. Above all, there was an unshakeable certainty that he’d taken over for good this time. Otto felt so sure about it that he waited a while and watched Peter trying to fight his way back.

Then, having grown tired of Peter’s vain struggle, he moved. He turned towards Johnny’s sleeping form and Peter could feel the horrible, predatory smile creeping on his face. He watched as Otto stretched out a hand and caressed Johnny’s cheek, coaxing a small, content sound out of him. Peter gagged. This scene was just wrong. He wanted to look away to deprive Otto of the sick pleasure he was getting out of this but then he saw his hand moving lower, his fingers snaking around his neck. The touch was featherlight for a moment, then Otto put his whole strength – no, Peter’s strength – into the grip.

Johnny’s eyes flew open. He struggled and tried to scream but it was already too late for that. A pitiful, hoarse sound was all that came out of his mouth. Peter screamed for him even though no one could hear it either. He tried to make his hands loosen, regain control for just a second, just long enough to save Johnny. “Just flame on!”, Peter yelled desperately. “Please! You can’t let me kill you!”

“Peter!” It was Johnny’s voice. Peter could hear it loud and clear even as he saw the fight bleed out of him and his gaze growing unfocused. The worst thing was the mix of fear, pain and incomprehension colouring the way Johnny said his name.

 

Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently.

“Peter! Pete! Goddamnit wake up already!”

With a gasp, Peter did just that. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Johnny who was kneeling over him; he was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

 “I’m awake”, Peter said breathless and weakly tried to bat away Johnny’s hands. “I … just need a moment.” The images of what he believed – hoped – to be just a nightmare were still fresh in his mind. Like a nightmarish afterimage, he could see Johnny, even paler than he was now, growing still as Peter’s own hands took the life from him. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to stop the scene from playing out in his head over and over. He was only faintly aware that he was trembling and that his breathing had become shallow and harried.

“Pete?” Johnny gently touched his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

This was exactly the type of situation Peter had tried to avoid. He knew he owed Johnny an explanation but had no idea how to even begin to give it. Right now he wasn’t even sure if this was real. For all he knew this could all be part of Otto’s twisted game. An illusion, a ruse to convince him that he was still the one in control.

“Please, say something”, Johnny pleaded. “I’m starting to get a little worried.” He had aimed for light-hearted but missed by a mile. The worry in his voice was as unmissable as a neon sign in a dark room.

“It– It was just a nightmare”, Peter said evasively.

 “Hardly”, Johnny countered. “ _Just_ a nightmare is dreaming you are naked in a room full of people and everyone’s staring at you. Not pleading with me to burn you so you won’t kill me.”

“I said that out loud?” Peter felt all colour drain from his face.

“Yup.”

“It isn’t– I–”

“You don’t want to kill me. Got it”, Johnny said with a wry smile. “I’d much rather know why you thought you had to.” He said it light-hearted, joking but Peter knew him well enough to see through it. Johnny was hurt.

Peter knew he had to come clean and tell Johnny everything. There was no half measure this time, no excuses, no evading the truth. He swallowed and took a final, steadying breath before he spoke. “Remember when I told you that Dr. Octavius had possessed me?”

“You said you were fine.”

“I am. Well, mostly. It’s just– I keep having nightmares. Sometimes I dream about what Otto did while he was wearing me like a suit.” Peter shivered. “That I can deal with, though. But then there are those dreams where he takes over again, locks me out for good and … does horrible things to people I care about.”

“I guess this nightmare was the latter kind”, Johnny said quietly.

Peter nodded. “I woke up – or I thought I’d woken up – and I didn’t know why at first. Until he started pulling me out of my body. I’m sure he could have taken over while I was asleep but he woke me up on purpose so I could realize what was happening. He watched me trying to fight back and when he got bored of that he turned towards you. I could feel my fingers around your throat but couldn’t do anything to stop it. All I could do was watch you die.” He drew a shaky breath. “That’s why I wanted you to burn me. So you could get away. Not that you could hear me…”

Johnny looked at him for a long time in complete shock. “Fuck”, he finally said. “Why didn’t you tell me things were this bad?”

Good question. There were a million reasons and none. He’d been embarrassed and Johnny had his own problems to deal with and for the longest time he hadn’t even admitted to himself that this was a problem, telling himself the dreams would stop in time. But Johnny was his best friend and he should have confided in him. There were no two ways about it.

“Did you tell anybody?”, Johnny added when Peter remained silent.

Peter shook his head.

Johnny sighed in exasperation. “You know, for such a smart guy you can be damned stupid.”

Peter let out a short laugh, a little strangled but honest. “You can’t be smart all day.”

“No”, Johnny agreed. “But next time you think about carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders – don’t. That’s not how we do things.”

“I know”, Peter sighed. “I know. But you have enough to deal with as it is; I didn’t want to add to it.”

“Thank you”, Johnny said and breathed a soft kiss on Peter’s lips. “That’s sweet of you but I don’t want you suffering to spare me.” He took Peter’s face in his hands and looked him deep in the eyes, full of fondness. “Don’t shut me out.”

“Okay”, Peter said, choked up. “I promise.”

“Thank you”, Johnny said again, leaning in for another kiss. This one much less chaste. Peter kissed him back, putting all his gratefulness into the gesture.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, why not tell me? Nothing motivates me more than a nice comment.  
> Constructive feedback is also always welcome. :)


End file.
